


After the Rain

by Zoelily



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon divergent after s12e12, Destiel Reverse Bang, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wing Kink, destielrb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-25 19:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10770600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoelily/pseuds/Zoelily
Summary: Watching your best friend almost die in front of you makes for pretty much the worst night ever. Back at the bunker, Dean just wants to get a decent night’s sleep and then pretend it never happened.  Unfortunately, Dean rarely gets what he wants and apparently Cas hasn’t already been through enough.





	After the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [destimushi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi) for reminding me to show not tell and for cutting out all of my unnecessary words, and to [MoniJune](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MoniJune/pseuds/MoniJune) for making sure this is completely readable. You are both awesome!
> 
> Please go check out the beautiful artwork by Kuwlshadow that inspired this story. You can find it at her [Tumblr](http://kuwlshadow.tumblr.com/post/160165678023/art-title-im-here-prompt-d013-artist)

[ ](http://s521.photobucket.com/user/paula2809/media/Aftertherain4707_1.jpg.html)

Dean had never seen a more welcome sight than Cas stretched out on the couch in the bunker library, sound asleep. Barring the fact that angel-napping wasn’t a good sign in their past experience, the relief at seeing his best friend alive and safe was enough for him to set that niggling worry aside for now. Watching Cas’ chest rise and fall under the all-too-familiar wrinkled shirt and trench had Dean releasing a deep breath in a single whoosh of air. He thought back to Cas’ words earlier and his own in response. Dammit, maybe Sammy was right, and talking about feelings should happen before someone was on their deathbed.

He rubbed his eyes as exhaustion nudged at his temples and weariness settled in his bones, but Dean couldn’t relax. He could just make out his mom and Sam in the kitchen, their voices no more than an annoying buzz in the back of his mind as he tried to process the past twenty-four hours. Too much didn’t add up for it to be a simple hunt gone wrong. It was like a throwback to the apocalypse, with Michael’s lance and a Prince of Hell, right on the heels of chasing down Lucifer’s love child? Too much of a coincidence. And what the fuck had Ramiel been ranting about them stealing from him? Dean shook his head and glanced over to check up on Cas one more time before making his way into the kitchen for some coffee.

“I’ve seen some awful things in my time but seeing Cas like that….I don’t know, that scared the shit outta me, Mom.”

“I know, Sam. I haven’t known Castiel very long, but it was hard to see him in that much pain. I’m really worried about Dean, too.”

Dean slowed his steps at the mention of his name and stopped to lean against the tiled wall just out of sight. A chair scraped loudly across the floor before anyone spoke again, and his brother’s gigantor footprints shuffled across the concrete to the counter. Sam’s voice was clear even over the clink of the coffee pot and cookie jar.

“You know Dean. He’s not gonna talk about his feelings even if he’s upset about what happened in the barn.”

“That’s the problem,” his mom said. “I really don’t know Dean. My little four-year-old boy would have curled up in my lap and told me about every emotion going through his sweet freckled head. Dean-the-adult, as much as I love him, is a complete mystery to me. I can’t begin to know how to approach him about this.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He didn’t know if he was more annoyed with his brother for thinking he was so emotionally constipated or his mom’s instinct to want to treat him like the child she remembered.

“My suggestion would be… don’t,” Sam urged, sitting back down at the table and setting down his coffee just as Dean entered the room.

“I gotta agree with Sam,” Dean announced, grabbing a chair and spinning it around to straddle it backwards, annoyance clear in his tone. “Leave it alone, Mom. You too, Sammy,” he warned, glancing over at his brother before the sasquatch got any ideas about changing his mind.

Dean could feel the tension reverberate in the sharpness of his voice as he continued. “Obviously I’m not cool with what happened to Cas tonight, or Wally for that matter, but it’s over. Cas is better, we’re fine, Ramiel’s dead, Crowley’s back down below, and we’ve got the broken lance. It’s over!”

Before either his mom or his brother could comment on his outburst, Cas wandered in from the library rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye, making a beeline for the coffeemaker. He’d poured himself a cup, added milk and sugar, grabbed a handful of cookies, and turned around again before he seemed to realize that all eyes were on him.

“What?” he asked, seemingly more interested in separating the two halves of his first Oreo than finding out why three people were completely focused on his every move.

“Uh, since when do you drink coffee and lick the cream out of Oreo cookies?” Sam finally broke the silence.

Cas tilted his head to the side, and Dean released the breath he’d been holding. He was so fucking glad his friend was still in one piece. Just one simple gesture that was so “Cas” put him instantly more at ease.

“It was my understanding that eating the centre first then dipping the outsides in coffee was the customary way to enjoy this type of cookie. Is that not correct?” Cas replied, evidently concerned that he may have been grossly misinformed.

Dean stood to spin his chair around and patted the seat beside him before sitting back down. “Come on, Cas. Bring your snack over here, man. I think what Sammy is trying to say is – twist ’em, lick ’em, or crunch ’em, you don’t generally eat cookies at all.” He gestured to the over-sweet coffee and the Oreo Cas was just bringing to his lips. “When you’re at full-mojo, you don’t eat, or sleep for that matter, which you just spent several hours doing.”

Cas slowly returned the uneaten cookie to the table, his shoulders slumping. “You’re right, of course. I am feeling somewhat drained. My only explanation is that there must be some delay in getting back to normal after the effects of the spell on Michael’s lance. In the meantime, I may have to partake in such human inconveniences as sleeping, eating, and urinating.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at Cas’ words. He hoisted himself up, fatigue finally becoming too much too ignore. With a quick squeeze to Cas’ shoulder, he turned towards the door. “Life ain’t always pretty, sunshine.“

Although Dean had expected to be out for the count the second his head hit the pillow, sleep eluded him. His mind was on a continual loop of his best friend’s face and his dying words. He’d managed to stay busy enough since they’d got home to avoid the onslaught of feelings the images conjured, but now that he was alone with his own thoughts for company, he couldn’t help but shudder at the pain etched in Cas’ eyes and the fear and resignation in his cracking voice.

Cas’ whole entire speech had thrown him for a fucking loop. The fact that the angel’s time with him and his brother had been the best years of Cas’ life was unimaginable. Cas had been around since the dawn of time – since the birth of creation – and he was just Dean fucking Winchester, a meaningless blip with daddy issues. How could Cas give knowing him that much significance? And love? I mean, he loved Cas, sure, but the way Cas had said it, and the way he’d looked at Dean, as if he could pierce through Dean’s soul with those penetrating blue eyes, Dean was turned inside out and scraped raw in that moment, and he didn’t know what to do with the feeling that exposed.

Thumping his pillow against the mattress with his balled fist, Dean swung his legs around to sit on the edge of his bed and rubbed at his sore eyes. This was fucking ridiculous. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well go grab the laptop and watch some Netflix or something. He pulled his grey robe over his sleep pants and threadbare t-shirt and wandered into the dimly lit hall.

A yellow glow came from under the door in the library. Expecting to find Sam, no doubt having fallen asleep in the middle of a Netflix documentary or mystery novel, Dean was startled to find Cas sitting crossed legged in front of the couch, surrounded by dusty books, his worn trench coat billowed around him like a cocoon.

“Hey, Cas,” he yawned as he wandered over and folded his limbs into a pretzel next to his friend. Dean could never figure out how Cas was so flexible. Jimmy Novak must’ve been into yoga or something. “Doing some light reading?”

Cas’ eyes darted to the piles of old tomes on the floor. “Yes, something like that.”

Dean’s eyebrow rose. Recognizing the avoidance in his friend’s tone, he left Cas to his privacy for the time being and tipped his head back to rest on the couch cushion. His eyes fluttered closed, his body feeling heavy and relaxed now that he wasn’t alone.

“If you’re sleepy, why aren’t you in your bed, Dean?”

“Too much noise in my head. Couldn’t shut it out. Thought maybe I’d get up and watch a movie or something.”

“Sorry. I can clean up if I’m keeping you from that?” Cas suggested, reaching out to grab the nearest book. Dean grasped his friend around the wrist before he reached it.

“No, no, Cas. It’s fine. Sitting and talking to you is better.”

Cas leaned back slowly, and Dean smiled. Only then did he realize he still had his fingers circling Cas’ wrist. He could feel his face flush as he dropped Cas’ arm and shifted back slightly. Dean hoped Cas didn’t notice his awkwardness.

“I enjoy talking to you too,” Cas replied, glancing at where his wrist was now lying limply in his lap.

Dean thought back to his friend’s answer to his original question and decided it was time to try again. “Can I ask you somethin’, Cas?”

Cas looked right at him this time, clearly not expecting Dean to be so forthright. “Of course, Dean.”

“What were you actually searching for? You know I love you no matter what, but you’re a shit liar.”

Cas’ eyes widened at the exact moment Dean realized what he’d said. He tried to backpedal. “I mean I…well you know I...” He took a deep breath and tried again. “You’re family and…shit, this isn’t coming out right.”

Cas placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before sighing. “Dean, you don’t have to explain yourself. I understand the concept of familial love. Angels are capable of feeling fondness for their closer siblings.”

Dean shook his head and looked directly at Cas, capturing the hint of disappointment and sadness in the depth of his blue eyes. “Is that the kind of love you meant in the barn?” Cas tried to look away, but Dean cradled the angel’s face in both hands to keep his gaze focused. “Did you mean brotherly love, Cas?” Dean asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

Cas shook his head, the movement scarcely perceptible between Dean’s hands, but he felt it. Dean’s thumb slid gently down Cas’ stubbled cheek as his fingers worked their way back to linger at the hair at the base of Cas’ neck.

“But you said it twice,” Dean questioned, unable to resist leaning even more into Cas, as if there were some kind of magnetic pull that he had no control over.

Dean’s reaction and movement must’ve given Cas the conviction he needed because his hands came up to grip Dean’s arms, holding him in place. There was no doubt in his eyes this time, no sign of untruth or misdirection. “The first one was for you, Dean, always for you.” Cas closed the distance and kissed him.

Cas’ lips were dry and warm, and they pressed into Dean’s with purpose. When Dean slid his hand fully into Cas’ hair and tilted the angel’s head back, Cas let out a low moan, turning Dean’s insides to Jello.

Dean pulled back before things got too heated. He held Cas at arm’s length and took in the sight of his best friend – eyes dilated, hair mussed, coat wrinkled. He looked debauched just from one chaste kiss. Dean had to stop and check if this was okay; his need to protect momentarily overpowering his desire. He opened his mouth to ask the question, but Cas dove forward, claiming Dean’s lips with his own.

This time the kiss was far from chaste. Cas’ tongue explored his mouth possessively, and Dean was drunk on the feeling. His hands slid eagerly down Cas’ chest to his hips before finally resting there and reluctantly pushing himself away.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, the single word taking on so much more weight in the aftermath of the last few minutes. “If we don’t stop now, I’m gonna find it really hard to stop at all.”

Cas nodded, awareness seeping back into his eyes under Dean’s gaze. Dean could pinpoint the moment when Cas realized he’d been the one to take the first step, as his friend’s eyes sprung open comically wide and a look of panic washed across his face.

Fully aware that Cas was about to do his angel guilt thing, Dean shook his head and gripped Cas’ shoulders tightly. “No, you don’t get to freak out about this, Cas. Yeah, you planted one on me first, but I was a willing participant.”

The fear in Cas’ eyes quickly turned to surprise. “You wanted me to kiss you?” he asked hesitantly.

Dean couldn’t help but soften at the skepticism in Cas’ expression. He supposed he’d earned it, with his aversion to showing emotions. He let his knuckles graze down the stubble of Cas’ jaw.

“If I’m being honest, I’ve wanted that and more for quite some time; I just can’t seem to get my head outta my ass long enough to admit it to myself, let alone you.”

[ ](http://s521.photobucket.com/user/paula2809/media/Destielrb_destiel_kuwlshadow_earlybird20174708.jpg.html)

Cas sighed, his forehead tilting to meet Dean’s. “I never realized. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember a time when you weren’t the epicentre of my every decision. I’d long given up hoping you might someday look at me as more than a hunting partner, a brother, or a friend.”

The flush in his cheeks was warm and uncomfortable as the conversation veered to places Dean usually tried very hard to avoid. He pushed through, though, because this was important; Cas was worth it.

“I gotta admit, Cas, it kinda snuck up on me. I mean, uh… haven’t done the guy thing since back when it was just me and the old man hunting together and Sam was still in school.” Dean dragged his hand across the back of his neck. “That, and well the whole wings and halo thing kinda throws a guy too.”

Dean was struggling. Everything he wanted to say sounded so stupid and childish by the time the words made it from his brain to his mouth. He felt like there were a million ants loose in his shirt, nipping and biting at his skin, and a vise squeezing his ribs tighter and tighter. Dammit, why did this have to be so hard?

He suddenly needed to get up off the floor. The small space and the way he was twisting made him feel claustrophobic as panic fluttered in his chest. Dean unfolded his legs and grasped Cas by the wrist to tug him up at the same time. He dragged them both onto the couch and slotted Cas alongside him, Dean felt calmer and able to breathe deeply.

“This is much better,” he said with a relieved sigh as he wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulder. “It was getting uncomfortable down there.”

“It’s fine, Dean, but I do want to remind you again that I don’t have a halo.”

Dean chuckled at Cas’ indignant voice, remembering more recently when Cas had also reprimanded him for saying he had a harp. Fuck, it’d been good to see him that day!

Dean pulled Cas in a little tighter, feeling protective of his friend after so many memories of the countless times they’d been ripped apart. “Yeah I know, buddy; just another silly figure of speech.” Dean trailed off with a wide groaning yawn.

“We can discuss this some more tomorrow. You’re very tired,” Cas mumbled, not sounding much more awake himself.

Realizing that he’d pulled Cas almost horizontal with him on the couch, Dean didn’t want to get up to go back to bed. “Yeah, just gonna crash here though. You gonna stick around?”

Cas nodded slowly into Dean’s neck and practically nuzzled his answer into his ear. “Mmm, yes. I’m quite sleepy. I’ll stay.”

Dean felt the heaviness seep into his limbs and the fogginess of sleep began to take him under. The last thing he remembered as he drifted between wakefulness and slumber was the supple press of lips to his temple and Cas’ gravelly whisper of “mine,” in his ear.

~~~

Everything happened at once. The sound of splintering ceramic as Sam’s coffee mug hit the cement floor, the crack of Dean’s head against Castiel’s as Dean scrambled up and over the angel at the unexpected noise, the undignified squeal that Dean would never admit to coming out of his mouth at both the sight of his brother in the library doorway and the pain in his head. It took a moment for Dean to reorient himself before his brain came back online enough for speech.

“What the fuck, Sammy! Don’t you believe in knocking?”

Sam’s bitchface was epic – so much so his eyebrows damn near hit his hair. “Dude, this is the library. It’s not like I expected to find you and Cas curled together like puppies on the couch in here.”

Dean’s mouth went straight to auto-deny. “We were not curled together like…” Shit. “Whatever! I need coffee.” Dean glanced over at Cas, rumpled and wide-eyed on the couch, looking for all intents and purposes like he was waiting for a bomb to go off. Dean’s voice softened instantly. “You look like you could use some too, Cas.” Cas nodded and rose to follow Dean to the kitchen while Sam grabbed a broom and mop to clean up the mess.

Dean busied himself with making coffee and getting the fixings for cereal, trying hard not to think about the fact that his brother just caught him and Cas together on the couch. It’s not that he cared if Sam found out; it’s just that he’d barely had a chance to get used to the idea himself. He shrugged. Oh well, one down, one to go he supposed. Mom would be next.

He turned to Cas, a cup of coffee in each hand, only to find the angel slumped over at the table with his head pillowed in his arms. Dean placed the mugs down and ran his fingers through Cas’ sleep-mussed hair.

“Hey, buddy? You doin’ ok?”

Cas lifted his head, and his eyes met Dean’s. Dean couldn’t help the involuntary gasp when he looked at his angel’s face. Cas’ usually crystal blue eyes were dull with dark circles giving him a hollowed look. His entire complexion was waxy, and Dean was worried by the exhausted lines that hadn’t been there the night before. Dean quickly took a seat in the next chair and placed his hands carefully on Cas’ shoulders. He stared directly into Cas’ eyes, pleading with him not to keep anything from him this time.

“Cas. What’s going on? You gotta tell me, man. This has something to do with all the books last night doesn’t it?”

His mom and Sam entered the kitchen, quietly watching, listening, and waiting. He let them stay. Whatever this was, whatever Cas knew, concerned them as well. Even so, right now, Dean only cared about Cas. Whatever they were dealing with was hurting Cas, and that was Dean’s primary concern.

“Yes, Dean. This is what I was researching. My grace…it seems to be turning on me.”

Dean shook his head and flicked his eyes over to Sam, who looked just as confused, shaking his head to say that he didn’t understand either.

Dean leaned in and touched Cas’ face. “What do you mean? You said that you were just powered down from the after effects of the spell on Michael’s lance.”

Cas took a deep breath and sat up straighter, clearly trying to rein in some strength. “That’s what I thought at first. I needed to sleep and eat, all the signs of being weakened, but I keep getting weaker instead of stronger. And now I’m getting sick, as if my grace is poisoning me.”

Fear of having to watch Cas suffer again pierced Dean’s heart.

“I went to the library last night to look up anything I could find about Michael’s lance. I know the magic was deactivated once Crowley broke it, but there must be something else, because I should not be feeling this way.”

“Did you find anything useful?” Dean asked. He had to hold on to some small thread of hope; anything was better than the alternative. That was a place his mind refused to go.

Cas shook his head and leaned into Dean’s waiting arm before answering. “Michael had many angelic weapons, but the most well-known was his sword. There is very little lore written on anything but that. I didn’t get that far though. I was feeling rather tired.”

Sam chose that moment to step forward and place his large hand comfortingly on Cas’ back. “Then we just have to look harder,” he encouraged. “We have the entire Men of Letters library here, plus Google, Charlie’s uploads from before...well, and what we salvaged from Bobby’s. If there’s a mention of that damn lance, we’ll find it. There are four of us; we’ll figure this thing out, Cas.”

Dean shook his head and flitted his eyes between Sam and his mom. It was like déjà vu; for the second time in as many days the three Winchesters were tasked with trying to save Cas’ life. This time, Dean thought, they were on their own.

“Well, let’s get some brain food and coffee and get to work then,” Dean said as he brushed the hair out of Cas’ eye and gave him a soft smile. “What do you need, Cas?”

“Do we have any more of those cookies with the cream in the middle?”

Dean laughed as he grabbed the box of Oreos and reminded himself to pick up more next time he was out. “Yeah. We got those.”

It didn’t take long before all three Winchesters, and Castiel, who as far as Dean was concerned may as well be a Winchester anyway, were all situated in the library. The only sounds were pages turning, Sam’s fingers on his laptop keyboard, and the occasional slurp of coffee or crunch of a cookie.

Cas was right. Although Michael the archangel was a much written about topic, and his sword, with its meanings and metaphors, was well discussed and disseminated in books and online articles, there was very little about any of Michael’s other angelic weapons. It was mentioned that he had a silver dagger, along with the enchanted lance, but the disheartened group could find almost no details. It was as if the dagger and lance bore no significance at all.

Dean was on his third cup of coffee. He and Cas had searched through the pile of books stacked by their feet where they sat, barely separated, on the couch they spent the night on. Cas had perked up a bit after the coffee and cookies, and even more so after Dean had made everyone some pancakes and bacon to get them through the morning, but Dean could tell he was losing steam again.

“You need a break?” Dean whispered, pressing his fingers into Cas’ shoulder and squeezing; a lame attempt to ease some of the tension.

Cas let out a shaky breath and leaned into the touch. “Yes. I do think I need to rest my eyes. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean pulled Cas back until they were resting against the back of the couch and draped his arm over Cas’ shoulder, his fingers automatically working their way up into the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Close your eyes for a little bit,” Dean said, hoping Cas would sleep for a little while. He glanced over at his mom, who was looking up at him with a shy, sad smile. Dean could see in her eyes that she knew, and she understood, and more than anything, she was sorry they had to go through this again. He may be a grown man, but he was really glad she was here.

Once Cas was snoring softly, Dean carefully extricated himself from the warmth of his arms. He reached down to straighten Cas’ coat, making sure it was covering him completely, before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. He looked down at his friend, his mood turning quickly from worry to agitation as he processed the situation they were in yet again.

Turning to his mom and brother, he let his frustration and anger get the best of him. It was better than the alternative, and he couldn’t go there. “What the hell, man? It hasn’t even been twenty-four fucking hours since the last time Cas almost fucking died.” Dean startled himself as he realized how loud he was being and glanced over to see that Cas was still sleeping soundly, a testament to how tired and ill he actually was. Just in case, Dean made a conscious effort to lower his voice before speaking again.

“We have to find something. We can’t lose him.”

Dean started to pace. Sam stopped typing, and Mary watched her son become more and more distressed. “We just got him back. I just got him back. I just told him everything. I can’t lose him now. I can’t…”

When his mom came over and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, he was gone. All of the fear and anguish Dean had been bottling deep inside shattered into a million brightly coloured shards and with one heart-wrenching sob, he couldn’t stop the single tear that finally broke free.

It was Sam’s excited voice that finally tore Dean away from the comfort of his mom’s arms.

“Hey guys. I think I found something.”

Dean absent-mindedly rubbed his flannel sleeve across his nose and eyes before taking the few quick strides over to where his brother was seated in the overstuffed leather chair. Sam’s shoulders were hunched over the laptop on the weathered oak coffee table but Dean butted in beside him, eager to know whatever it was his brother was so animated about.

Sam pointed at a paragraph on the screen, surrounded by intricate sigils and hand-drawn images of strange artifacts. “Look. This is the only mention I’ve found about the Lance of Michael. It talks about the sigils on the lance and how they independently work the magic, and goes on to say that ruining the sigils will break the spell and heal any angel cursed with it.”

Dean interrupted, “Well, yeah, we already knew that. The thing is in two pieces in the cursed objects archive and up until this morning we thought Cas was back to normal.”

“I know, but get this,” Sam continued with an annoyed eye roll. “There are additional sigils on the point of the lance that aren’t affected if the others are destroyed. They’re like a backup plan or something. They can’t be deactivated by anyone but Michael himself, or automatically in the case of his death.”

Dean just stared wide-eyed at his brother, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. “Are you telling me, that we’re gonna have to go down to the pit and gank another archangel or Cas is gonna die?”

“Uh, actually no,” Sam managed to blurt out before Dean could lose it completely. “The sigils on the point of the lance are only effective if they’re in continual contact with their intended target. The lance was pulled out, so that can’t be what’s hurting Cas now.”

His sigh of relief was short-lived when Dean considered that they were back at square one, with no idea at all what was causing Cas to get weaker by the minute.

“Well whether it’s the lance or not, it doesn’t hurt to check it out. I’m gonna go grab it and see if there’s anything we’re missing here.” Sam offered, patting Dean on the shoulder as he walked past. Dean knew this was difficult for Sam too. Cas was his friend – a brother – they had to figure this out. That fact was non-negotiable! He looked down at Cas’ sleeping form and not for the first time tried to think back to a time when the angel wasn’t an important fixture in their lives, and he realized those memories were getting further and further away.

“How’re you holding up, Dean?” his mom’s voice pierced his thoughts.

“I’m fine, Mom,” he lied, knowing she was fully aware of it.

Even without looking he could tell she was disappointed that he’d clammed up. Hell, even Dean knew it was healthier for him to let it all out, but now wasn’t the time and he still wasn’t sure his mom was the best source of comfort. He wanted her to be, damn…he really did, but everything was just too weird still.

Before Mary could call Dean out, Sam reappeared carrying the broken lance. Dean rushed over as Sam placed the two similarly sized pieces on the worn table surface. The three of them knelt down to examine the lance more closely.

“Do either of you have a flashlight on you?” Mary asked, squinting at the underside of the tip. She held her hand across the table, expectant.

“Here, Mom. What is it?” Dean questioned, as he pulled his small penlight out of his back pocket and placed it in her open palm. He tried to lean over the table but she just shooed him off to get him out of her light.

Mary picked up the lance and held the tip up for both boys to see and held the light so it shone directly on a spot right at the very tip where a tiny chunk had obviously chipped off. The rest of the triangular metal tip of the lance was polished smooth.

Sam finally had the balls to say what they all were thinking. “If that little chip is broken off somehow inside Castiel, then it’s in contact with his grace.”

“What’s in contact with my grace?” Cas asked, his voice sleepy and weak.

Dean stumbled over to the couch and fell down beside Cas, taking a moment to run a hand through his damp, sleep-mussed hair. “Hey, Cas. How’d you sleep?”

“Like a human,” Cas grumbled, looking for all the world like a disgruntled cat. Dean wasn’t sure whether to continue petting or watch for bared claws. Deciding that a peace offering might be his best bet, Dean tried his most calming voice. “You hungry? I can make you some lunch?”

Cas shook his head gingerly, clearly still feeling like crap if the speed of his movements was anything to go by. “No. I think I just need to know what you’ve managed to find out. I hadn’t planned to be asleep for so long. My apologies for not being of more assistance.”

Dean squeezed Cas’ thigh. He was in no shape to be researching, but Dean knew there was no point in telling Cas that. He’d feel the same way if the tables were turned. There was nothing worse than feeling useless.

Sam sat down on the coffee table facing Dean and Cas, and Mary lowered herself into the armchair to their right. With all four of them settled, Sam explained in detail everything they’d found out about the lance and the additional spell, and likelihood that the broken chip was inside Castiel.

A hush fell over the room when Sam finished talking. Dean was about to suggest they start brainstorming ideas on how to get to Michael when Cas leaned into him and smiled.

“I don’t get it, Cas. How is this something to be happy about? I don’t even know where to start to fix this…and don’t even think about the big goodbye speech you gave yesterday. Not happening, dude!” Dean was just pushing himself off the couch to start pacing again when Cas covered his hand with his own to stop him.

“No, Dean. It’s okay. You said the spell is only active for as long as the sigils are in contact with the recipient, correct?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. But, Cas, the chip is inside you.”

Cas shrugged, an entirely too human response, reminding Dean what they were fighting against. “So, we take it out.”

Dean spun around and grabbed Cas by the shoulders, looking him right in the eye, an expression of pure hope on his face. “You know where it is? Can you feel it or something?”

“Of course not, but a simple location spell will prove useful, the ingredients of which are no doubt already on hand,” Cas replied, barely making it to the end before having to catch his breath. “I can write it down.”

Mary slid over a coil-bound notebook and pen, and Castiel struggled to make a list of the things they needed.

_camphor_  
_morning glory_  
_poke root_  
_small animal bones_  
_copper bowl_

Sam nodded. They definitely had all the ingredients.

Castiel continued, wheezing as much as talking. “The last person to wield the weapon will need to be the one to both sacrifice the blood and recite the incantation.”

“That would be me,” Sam confirmed. “Are you able to write it out?” Cas nodded, shifting his focus back to the task at hand.

Even scribbled in his weakened state, the loops and swirls on the lined page gave Castiel’s handwriting an ethereal quality – just another reminder of the magnitude of what Cas was. Shaking his head, Dean read through the Latin, glad that it was Sam doing the spell. His brother’s pronunciation was better; Dean hated that witchy shit.

“Here, Sammy,” Dean said, pushing the notebook over to his brother. “Read this through a few times while I go grab the stuff on the list.”

It didn’t take long for Dean to find everything. The ingredients were common enough that they kept them stocked. Whether he liked them or not, some spells came in handy, and Bobby had known a slew of ’em.

Using the bowl as a basket, Dean hurried back to the library to find Sam pacing, reciting the incantation to himself, and his mom stripping his boyfriend from the waist up. If his pinched brows, pursed lips, and Mary pulling at his arms like an uncooperative toddler were anything to go by, Cas wasn’t any more thrilled with this turn of events than Dean was.

“Uh, is there a reason Cas can’t take off his own damn shirt?” Dean asked, nudging his mom out of the way and popping the last couple of Cas’ buttons himself.

Cas sighed. “I was struggling, Dean. I’m finding myself very weak, and your mother offered her assistance. I assure you, I’d much rather not be treated like an invalid.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Dean mumbled. He was acting like an ass, and he knew it. He needed to get his shit together before he said or did something he couldn’t take back. Dean slid the cotton down Cas’ arms and leaned in for a quick kiss.

“I know you hate this, Cas. Let’s get this over with so we can get you back to yourself.”

“I think the best thing is for you to lie on the couch,” Sam offered as he wandered over with the copper bowl in his hand. “I’ve split the ingredients just in case we have to do this twice. Do you wanna try your back or front side first?” Cas rolled onto his stomach with a groan.

Dean kneeled on the floor, grabbing Cas’ hand and slotting their fingers together. Mary stood with the lance tip held out in front of her, perpendicular to Cas’ prone body.

“I think we’re good to go, Sam,” Dean said as he glanced at the knife in his brother’s hand.

Sam wasted no time slicing the blade across his palm and clenched his fingers. A few drops of blood trickled into the bowl on the table. Sam passed the bowl to Mary, then struck a match and tossed it in. Dean watched the contents of the bowl flare bright blue as his mom held it over the lance; the flame flickered wildly as Sam began to chant.

_“Micantis Regia vestram angelorum quaeritur caritas._  
_Praebueris focus tuus et claritatis.”_

The flickering stopped as quickly as it started and the flame went out completely; an acrid black smoke tickled Dean’s lungs. He watched in horror and fascination as Cas’ back glowed with pale white light, beginning at the nape of his neck and working downwards. Sam’s chant continued.

_“Ego quaerere et invenire non modo huic rei studendum._  
_Et in ea per lumen excito in te manere.”_

The black smoke vacuumed in on itself and disappeared, the smell vanishing with it. Dean couldn’t stop staring as the light on Cas’ back spiraled its way inward towards a single point, getting smaller and smaller, until all that was left was a pulsing blue dot the size of a dime between Cas’ shoulder blades.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered. “It worked! I wonder how long before it stops glowing?”

“Until you tell it not to,” Cas answered, his voice barely audible, and cleared his throat. “There’s a counter-spell. The blue light will stay until you do it.”

“Well, we shouldn’t need that,” Dean interrupted. “Now let’s get you into a comfortable bed where we have better light. The next part won’t be exactly painless.”

After scrounging for towels, a decent blade, a first aid kit, some whiskey (for Dean), and promising he’d scream for help if anything at all went wrong, Dean dragged a half-conscious angel down the hall to his room.

 ~~~

 If they were in their current position for any other reason, Dean would have some smart-ass comment or dirty innuendo, but right now, even with his crotch straddled over Cas’ half naked body, all Dean felt was fear. The blue light pulsed between Cas’ shoulder blades like a beacon, but also a reminder that he had to cut into Cas’ skin. The knowledge that this was necessary to save Cas’ life, and Cas would be able to heal himself immediately, didn’t take away from the fact he was about to intentionally cause pain to someone he loved. He was thankful Cas was so out of it he would barely be aware of the pain.

Dean held the scalpel firmly, leaned down to drop a butterfly kiss to the glowing light, took a deep breath, and pressed the blade into Cas’ skin.

Cas’ upper body arched off the bed, and he screamed. Dean expected the reaction and pulled the blade away quickly. Before Dean got the chance to comfort him, Cas went limp and Dean watched with rapt attention as a tiny piece of silver, completely flooded by pulsing bright light slipped from the incision he’d made and landed on Cas’ back.

Remembering that as long as the piece was in contact with Cas, the spell would continue, Dean grabbed the sliver of metal and tossed it to the side. The effect was immediate. The muscles on Cas’ back rippled and the cut closed seamlessly before Dean’s eyes. Cas’ head turned to the side and his eyes fluttered open, crystal blue and bright.

“I can feel my grace flooding my body, Dean. I can feel…”

Dean felt the pinpricks of static in the air surrounding them. Cas’ eyes grew wide with wonder. Dean wanted to question him but something told him not to interrupt whatever it was he was witnessing. The light in front of him shimmered, and suddenly it was as if space folded in on itself and in its place were wings, glossy and black.

Dean was stunned. He’d never seen anything so amazing. Cas’ wings were gorgeous, but… “Hey Cas? I thought your wings were all fucked up?”

“They were damaged beyond anything I could restore or heal. Something about reversing that spell must’ve fixed them.”

The wings jutted from between Cas’ shoulder blades, curved up high above his head, and draped down past his knees. The feathers were tiny and fluffy near the base and easily a foot-long at the tips, like a magnificent bird.

“They’re incredible,” Dean mumbled, resisting the urge to sink his hands in the inky blackness to see if they felt as soft as they looked.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, and as he spoke, Dean noticed the feathers ruffled, as if pleased with Dean’s compliment.

Hmmm, interesting.

“How do you feel, Cas? I mean, after the spell and all that crap?”

Dean watched in awe as each feather lifted independently, working together to create a perfectly choreographed dance, and rose effortlessly in front of Dean; a majestic display that took his breath away.

“I can fly, Dean. I feel like an intrinsic part of me has been returned. It’s a difficult thing to describe, but I assure you, it’s quite wonderful.”

As Cas stretched his wings for the first time in so long, Dean grinned at the sparkle in his eyes and the smile lines on his face. They took their wins where they could. He wrapped his arms around Cas, and after trailing several open-mouthed kisses into Cas’ warm skin, he nuzzled his jaw against the downy feathers that joined Cas’ back.

A breathy sigh accompanied the flutter of tiny feathers tickling his cheek. Dean’s hips ground hesitantly against Cas’ ass as he whispered in Cas’ ear. “You good with this, Cas?”

The voice that answered from beneath him was rougher than usual. “I can assure you, Dean, I am more than okay with you touching any part of me.”

Dean shivered involuntarily at Cas’ words, starting at his shoulders and ending with a quick roll of his hips. His cock was already swelling, and his fingers itched to dive back into the mass of silky feathers.

“The first day we met, I mean for real, in the barn. Fuck, the shadows of your wings were badass, but the real thing? Cas, they’re incredible.” Dean caved and stretched his arms to grasp the arch of Cas’ wings while gently trailing his teeth down the shell of his ear. “You’re incredible,” Dean murmured before latching onto the skin of Cas’ neck.

“Dean, you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Cas whimpered. “No one has ever—” A tremor exploded through his wings, almost causing Dean to lose his balance. He sat up and grabbed onto Cas’ shoulders. “What the fuck, Cas?”

“My wings,” Cas stuttered, trying to catch his breath. “All nerve endings. They’re sensitive.”

Dean took in Cas’ words. He slid off Cas’ back and tugged on his arm. He needed to see his face. Cas rolled over and sat up across from Dean, his wings still fluttering and face flushed. Dean pressed his palm to the heated skin of Cas’ chest – Cas’ wrecked appearance too much to not touch.

“So no one’s ever fluffed your feathers?” Dean asked.

Cas shook his head. “That requires a certain level of intimacy. You’re aware of my sexual history, Dean.”

Dean was pleased at Cas’ admission, knowing he was the first to give Cas this kind of obvious pleasure. “How does it feel?” he teased, grabbing a hold of Cas’ sturdy flight feathers for support and straddling Cas’ lap. Dean sank his fingers into the silky mass of black and thrust his hips down into Cas’ groin, groaning at the solid shaft against his own.

“Like nothing I’ve ever felt before, and everything all at once,” Cas growled before shutting Dean up with his mouth. Cas’ lips parted immediately and Dean wasted no time deepening the kiss. Dean’s hands opened and closed around fistfuls of feathers, tugging Cas’ body impossibly close. As the kiss became more frantic, so did the grind of their hips and soon Cas was panting into Dean’s mouth, barely kissing at all.

Dean was lost in the deep moans escaping Cas’ lips, and the juxtaposition of hard cock and soft feathers shifting against him. The glassy look of desire in Cas’ eyes sent Dean spiralling towards completion, and he knew Cas was right there with him.

Cas pulled back to grasp the hem of Dean’s shirt and wrestle it over his head. When he was finally free, Cas gripped Dean’s hips and thrust against him as their eyes locked. Dean shuddered at the flush in Cas’ cheeks and sheen of sweat on his face.

“Dean,” Cas stuttered, that single syllable sounded so wrecked Dean wanted to replay it over and over for eternity. “Dean, please,” Cas repeated, and Dean wondered if Cas even knew what he was pleading for.

“I got you, sunshine,” Dean vowed, hanging by a thread himself. He raked his fingers through Cas’ wings, keeping them from flapping them right off the bed, and pressed his entire body into Cas’ trying to meld them together. “Let it go, Cas. I got you.”

Cas came with a shout and a shudder, repeating Dean’s name like a prayer. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, and Dean’s self-control was no match. Cas’ body trembled with aftershocks, and Dean’s orgasm punched out of him as he rutted his denim-clad erection against Cas’ hard lines.

“Fuck,” Dean panted, dropping his chin to Cas’ shoulder. Cas nuzzled against him with a soft hum, neither of them willing to break the spell. Dean kept his fingers woven through Cas’ wings, gently combing through the feathers as his heartbeat slowed. He didn’t feel the need to rush off or make pig-headed jokes about cuddling. Being with Cas wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was Cas that eventually broke the silence. “Thank you, Dean,” he whispered.

“It’s not customary to thank someone for dry humping you to orgasm, Cas, no matter how hot it was.”

The eye roll was one of the first human mannerisms Cas perfected, and he used it now. “I meant thank you for saving my life, but the sentiment applies for what followed as well.”

Dean tipped his head back and laughed. “Well as far as the spell, I’m just damn glad it worked. You scared the hell outta me…again. As for the rest” — Dean leaned in to kiss Cas — “you’re definitely welcome. I gotta ask though. Are the feathers a permanent fashion accessory?”

Cas smiled and brushed his wing tips along Dean’s arms; Goosebumps prickled his neck. There was an almost sultry tone to Cas’ voice when he answered. “Why? Do you like them?”

“Uh, yeah, they’re fucking amazing, Cas.”

Cas was clearly pleased with Dean’s answer, a soft smile gracing his lips and his feathers fluffing up as if Cas’ wings gave away what he was feeling, like an angel mood ring. Cas rolled his shoulders. “It’s likely they’re back for good, but I’ll need to hide them again obviously. They would be very much in the way if I kept them in this plane all the time.”

Dean nodded and watched as the feather’s shimmered and disappeared, feeling a sense of loss. “I don’t suppose,” he stammered, not sure if it was even okay to ask. “I mean, can you bring them back once in awhile?”

“Of course, Dean. I can move them between planes whenever I want.”

“Uh, cool,” Dean nodded, shifting to stop the evidence of his clothed orgasm from sticking to his body. “So, I know you can mojo yourself clean and shiny, but can you manage it for both of us? We’re gonna need to go out there and let Mom and Sammy know the spell worked and both of us running for a quick shower first might look a bit weird.”

The tingle that accompanied Cas’ grace always caught Dean off-guard. He sighed at the relief that came from clean boxers and thanked Cas with a wink.

Once they were both fully dressed, they stood at the doorway to Dean’s bedroom, leaning against the jamb. Cas grasped Dean’s hand and slotted their fingers together tightly. “Are there any more of those cookies with the cream in the middle?” Castiel asked, head tilted to the side and hair mussed perfectly.

“Pretty sure,” Dean replied with a grin, giving Cas’ hand a squeeze. “And if not, I’ll go buy you some.”

~~~

It only took three days for Dean to discover the advantages of having a fully-powered angel for a boyfriend. A morning blow-job, followed by a craving for something sugary and loaded with carbs, had sent Cas fluttering off to a bakery in search of pastries, while Dean lounged in the war room with his coffee. Mary wandered in soon after, greeting him with a squeeze to his shoulder. “Good morning, Dean.”

“Hi, Mom. Sleep well?” he asked. “Cas went to get breakfast. He should be back any sec.”

Mary blew on her coffee before taking a tentative sip and setting it down on the map table. “I slept great. It’s amazing what a difference it makes knowing all you boys are safe and well.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Sam’s voice booming from the kitchen. “Dean! What the hell, man?” followed by the giant himself storming into the room with two boxes of Double-Stuff Oreos in his hands.

Dean held up his hands in defense, unsure what his brother’s big problem was.

Sam stomped over and turned both boxes upside down to empty the contents onto the table. Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

Cas, of course, chose that inopportune moment to reappear with a bakery box in his hand. “What’s so funny, Dean?”

Sam was the one who answered, not looking as amused as his brother. “What happened to the middles, Cas?”

Cas glanced down at the table, understanding dawning on his face. “Oh. I licked them.”

Dean lost it at that, tipping his head back and roaring. Even Mary was smirking.

“Let me guess, you learned your manners from Dean?” Sam mumbled, wandering back into the kitchen shaking his head.

“Did I do something wrong, Dean?” Cas asked.

Dean grinned, grabbed for the bakery box, and then pulled Cas in for a loud, smacking kiss. “Hell no, Cas. You did everything just right. Now, let’s fucking eat.”

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> English translation of spell:
> 
> Guiding Angels I ask your charity.  
> Lend me your focus and your clarity.  
> This object I seek will find its way.  
> And in its wake a light will stay.


End file.
